


the fear of losing you beneath my skin

by Lire_Casander



Category: 9-1-1: Lone Star (TV 2020)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Extensive use of Spanish, M/M, Mentions of a Shooting (As Per Canon), Misunderstandings, mentions of cheating, mentions of past cheating, mentions of past injuries, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29724894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lire_Casander/pseuds/Lire_Casander
Summary: tk can't believe his eyes as he strolls around the farmerʼs market, getting ready for his date night with carlos
Relationships: Carlos Reyes/TK Strand
Comments: 22
Kudos: 201





	the fear of losing you beneath my skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terramous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/terramous/gifts).



> beta’ed by [meloingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meloingly)
> 
> title from _underneath_ by hanson
> 
> author’s notes: if you hover over the spanish, you’ll be able to read the english translation! 
> 
> written for **max** ’s birthday! happy birthday, my dear! i hope you have a glorious day and that the year ahead brings you everything you could ask for. love you to bits and pieces!
> 
> written for **_betrayal_** from my [bad things happen bingo card](https://lire-casander.tumblr.com/post/626174763915722752/welcome-to-my-very-own-bad-things-happen-bingo)

It feels weird to be strolling around the farmer’s market on his own. TK has yet to figure out how to navigate through life whenever their shifts don’t align long enough to allow them to actually _enjoy_ some activities together, and he isn’t even thinking about the sexier aspects of their lives — the most they’ve exchanged these days have been a few sloppy kisses when one of them had to leave for work, and that’s only because TK has been staying at Carlos’ to both avoid his family drama and to spend the very scarce calm moments they have _together_.

So here he is, attempting to keep any resemblance of normalcy by going grocery shopping at Carlos’ favorite market so he can cook his boyfriend his favorite dinner right before having to clock in for his own twenty-four-hour shift. TK knew what he was signing up for when he chose Carlos — and he still thinks it was the best decision he’s ever made. It just sucks that, from time to time, they have to go through rough patches like this one, when their shifts go on overtime and they can’t see each other as much as they want to — or at all. TK doesn’t want to dwell on that train of thought too much, so he earnestly pushes the bad vibes to the back of his mind and walks forward to the next stall, ready to check the potted plants and maybe even add a flower bouquet to his shopping list today.

He’s chatting with the florist — a nice, old woman named Melinda he knows from previous visits — when he hears a distinct voice he could recognize in his dreams. He stiffens his stance and misses what Melinda’s saying; he turns around to the source of the noise, incredulous because he’s hearing Carlos’ voice but it can’t be because Carlos told him, in no uncertain terms, that he’d be working for _at least_ three more hours.

And surely, there’s Carlos dressed in his uniform — at least he wasn’t lying about _that_ — all draped around a guy TK doesn’t recognize. He’s sure he’s never seen that person before. And yet, his boyfriend is laughing and touching this stranger’s arm with much more familiarity than TK was expecting.

“Are you okay, TK?” Melinda’s asking, a tinge of worry in her voice as he proceeds at ignoring her, his whole frame twisted toward the pairing loudly talking a few feet away from them. “TK?”

“Sorry,” he mutters, turning around just long enough to grab the flowers he’s agreed on buying and giving Melinda some cash. “Keep the change. I gotta go now.”

He steps away, no doubt leaving a confused Melinda in his wake, but he can’t help it. He needs to get closer to them — he needs to listen to what they’re saying, if only to make sure this isn’t just his mind playing tricks. It has to be, though. TK has never pegged Carlos for the cheating type; Carlos isn’t Alex, and he’s made abundantly clear that he’s not going to follow in Alex’s footsteps and break TK’s heart in the process. _That was before_ , TK thinks bitterly. _I don’t know what to think now_.

As he approaches them, making sure he’s not seen by going as far as hiding behind some fish stall when Carlos turns around laughing in mirth, TK notices that they aren’t alone. Carlos is still wrapped around this stranger’s frame, his uniform stretching as he reaches around the other man to hug him tighter, and he’s speaking quickly in Spanish to someone TK has been avoiding for the past weeks — since they agreed that they could take as much time as Carlos needed to tell his _parents_ that they were much more than just friends from work.

Apparently, those rules and that fear didn’t apply to this stranger with warm blue eyes and dusty hair who’s currently chatting up the Reyes in a language TK has yet to master.

“¡Qué alegría tenerte ya en Austin, Fredo!” Andrea Reyes is saying, a bright smile on her face. “¿Vienes esta noche a cenar a casa, no, Carlitos? ¡No puedes perderte la primera noche de Fredo en la ciudad después de tantos años!”

TK hasn’t the slightest clue as to what they’re talking about, but he has grasped enough to know that the tall man’s name is Fredo, and that the Reyes are inviting him _and_ Carlos over to dinner that night. The night TK had planned to go all Master Chef on his boyfriend. He freezes when he sees Carlos’ face crumpling down.

“Mamá, tengo que trabajar,” he says, his accent curling around the words in a way that sets TK’s insides on fire. “Maybe another day.”

“No, no,” Gabriel interrupts him. “Tienes que venir. Hace semanas que no te vemos, siempre encuentras una excusa u otra para no ir a casa de Tía Lucy.”

“Uhm,” Carlos hesitates. TK can see, even from this distance, that he’s trying his best not to disappoint them. Selfishly, he wants Carlos to announce he already has plans — because _they_ made plans for tonight given that they had a total amount of an hour and a half between Carlos was supposed to come home and TK was supposed to go to work — if only so it might make the weird weight settling on his chest a bit lighter. Carlos shakes his head. “Allí estaré,” he finally stammers.

TK may not know what all that Spanish means, but the delighted squeal from Andrea Reyes leaves no room for misunderstandings. Carlos is looking incredibly uncomfortable — which, TK thinks viciously, he _should_ — but he nods along at whatever string of words his parents are now saying. TK can’t stand to watch it any longer; he’s even surprised that he hasn’t given his own presence away, given the failing way he’s been suppressing some whiny whimpers at the situation unfolding in front of him.

He walks away, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He takes a few steps before he collapses against the wall surrounding the farmer’s market precinct near the north entrance. He feels like he can’t breathe, like his lungs aren’t working properly, and he’s trying to follow these exercises his therapist showed him when his cell phone chimes with a message. He doesn’t want to check it, because he knows exactly what it says. Instead, he ignores it as it keeps pinging in his pocket, his panic attack nowhere under control as he allows burning tears to mark his skin with flaming shame.

* * *

Carlos bids farewell to his parents with an awkward wave of his hand and turns to Fredo, who’s staring at him with a curious glance in his blue eyes. “What,” he snaps.

“Nothing, _primo_ ,” Fredo says in a mocking voice. “Just that you’ve agreed to go to your parents’ house for dinner tonight, and I kinda remember you told me you had a hot date with a certain firefighter.”

Carlos groans. He hasn’t forgotten about TK — he could _never_ — but he hasn’t seen any way out of the trap his parents have set up for him. It’s true that he hasn’t gone to Tia Lucy’s in a few weeks, making up excuses so he could spend every single minute of his free time with his boyfriend, but he’s tried to make it up to his mom by calling her twice a day. He thought he was doing good.

“I really need to tell TK,” he mumbles. “He’s not going to take it well.”

“Well, I for one wouldn’t take it so well, given the circumstances,” Fredo retaliates. “But maybe you could take him with you? Break the ice and tell Auntie Andrea and Uncle Gabriel that he’s your boyfriend?”

“You know that’s not an option right now,” Carlos tells him, voice hard but unsteady. “They think—”

“I know what they _think_ , Carlos, but this has never been about what they thought. It’s always been about how _you_ are feeling, and right now it doesn’t look like you’re doing good on that front.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint them more than I have already done,” Carlos mutters. “They love me, they just don’t—”

“—show it?” Fredo sighs. “C’mon, Carlos, we both know that’s not the case. I know you’ve been scared of the outcome you got after coming out to them. I understand that fear of not wanting to lose your parents’ love, you know I do, but this has to end someday. And maybe that day is today, you know?” Fredo shakes his head before grabbing Carlos’ arm and pulling him into a hug. “You feel forever about this TK you have yet to introduce to me, and you should be able to bring him home to meet your parents.”

Carlos allows his cousin to smother him against his shirt. He’s always felt safe in Fredo’s arms — they grew up together like brothers, sharing so many things even though they were so different. Both had taken after their fathers — Carlos in choosing his career, Fredo in his looks. Everyone always got so surprised to learn they were related, the blonde kid with blue eyes and the olive-skinned boy with wild curls, but they never heeded it any importance. They were family, and when they were old enough to understand how genetics worked, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. It never mattered that Fredo wasn’t biologically his cousin — that he’d been adopted when he was just a baby by Aunt Helena and Uncle Pedro — because they would always be family.

“Would you?” he mutters, low enough that he doesn’t think Fredo has heard him. 

“Would I what?” Fredo replies quickly, never missing a beat.

“Would you help me tell them about TK?”

“Of course,” Fredo accepts easily, pushing Carlos away softly. “I’m always here for you, Carlos, even if I live in another fucking country.”

“Well, moving halfway across the world to Porirua to join the New Zealand Police as a consultant wasn’t something either of us was expecting,” Carlos jokes. “Aunt Helena was absolutely devastated.”

“I distinctly recall someone a bit younger than Mom crying their eyes out,” Fredo teases.

“I was younger,” Carlos defends himself. “And I knew I was going to miss you lots. Which, you know, I wasn’t mistaken at all about. Also, you could have told me you were coming!”

Fredo laughs heartily. “I miss you too, _primo_. And _that_ would have defeated the whole purpose of a surprise, wouldn’t it?” Freod sobers up for a moment. “Now, what about I allow you to go back to your shift?”

“Yeah, that would be advisable. After all, some of us don’t get that many days off as _others_.”

“I didn’t get a single day off in three years so I could come down here for Mom and Dad’s thirty-year anniversary,” Fredo jabs back. “If you keep being a brat, I might not even show up for dinner tonight!”

Carlos laughs at his cousin and waves him goodbye, leaving Fredo at the microgreens stall he’d been visiting when Carlos had stumbled upon him on his routine check-in on the farmer’s market since it is in his precinct’s jurisdiction. He walks right towards the south entrance, keeping an eye on possible shoplifters, and sooner than he expected he’s stepping out of the farmer’s market precinct. Once he’s close to his cruiser, he allows himself to breathe once again. Carlos knows he has to talk to TK and tell him that he’s sorry he’s missing dinner on the first day in a whole fortnight that they’re coinciding for more than ten minutes, but he still doesn’t know how to do it. Carlos is aware that, although TK seems at ease with the situation, his boyfriend has been tiptoeing around this issue for weeks now. He won’t take it so well, even if he might want to mask his disappointment.

As he pulls out his phone from his pocket, Carlos feels like a total jerk for cancelling on his boyfriend, but he feels like he doesn’t have a choice right now. With a sigh, he fires a quick succession of texts.

He places the phone back in his pocket and doesn’t think much of it when it doesn’t chime right away with TK’s replies. He doesn’t want to dwell much on the fact that TK Strand lives glued to his cellphone, but Carlos believes that maybe he’s too busy dealing with his parents that he might have foregone checking his phone. Carlos jumps into the cruiser and starts the engine, ready to patrol Austin streets on what so far has been a slow day.

* * *

TK stomps into the firehouse half an hour before his shift is supposed to start. His mood hasn’t improved since the farmer’s market adventure, and he’s yet to find a suitable way to reply to Carlos’ texts that doesn’t scream _you’re a liar who lies_ out loud through the screen of the cell phone. He’s been wandering around Austin for a few hours now, just walking around aimlessly as the weight of the day’s events fell over him. He doesn’t know what to think anymore, but the feeling of betrayal just won’t go away.

He’d never pegged Carlos for one of _those_ men — sweet, reliable Carlos who’s always gone out of his way to show TK how much he’s loved. TK really thought Carlos was going to be _the one_ ; he believed that, this time, he wasn’t being played. Maybe he doesn’t really know how to read people. Maybe that’s the problem here; maybe TK should have known better than to trust anyone _ever_ again. He huffs as he begins changing clothes in front of his open locker, fully aware that he’ll be alone for a while until the rest of his coworkers show up — after all, he’s arrived way too early even for his own liking, but he couldn’t go home to his parents and he definitely wasn’t going to come back to Carlos’. He’s even thrown away everything he’d purchased at the farmer’s market, too embarrassed and ashamed of what he’d witnessed to entertain the idea of keeping the groceries he’d bought to shower Carlos in some food love. He’s feeling too ashamed of his hopes and his trust — he’s embarrassed that he’s thought Carlos needed more time when apparently all he’s been doing these past months has been hiding TK from his parents for good reason.

It’s Alex all over again, but this time it feels more horrible.

This time TK is actually in love.

“What has that hoodie done to you, Strand?” he hears at his back. He startles out of his thoughts, realizing belatedly that he hasn’t really changed into his uniform, instead holding his yellow hoodie in between his fingers so tight that he’s begun twisting it in his grip viciously.

“Nothing,” he mumbles. He doesn’t want to turn around and meet Paul’s inquisitive gaze. He’s sure Paul Strickland only needs one glimpse at his stricken face to learn everything he needs to learn about the situation. Oddly enough, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he has suspicions — _almost confirmed_ — about Carlos not being honest to him.

TK doesn’t want anyone to think less of Officer Carlos Reyes because, despite how heartbroken and lost he’s feeling right now, he still loves Carlos.

“Well, it sure as hell doesn’t look like _nothing_ , TK,” Paul continues. He ambles the space until he’s standing in front of TK, who’s unconsciously taken a step back from his open locker. “Woah, what’s going on? You look like shit.”

TK shakes his head. He doesn’t want to voice his thoughts, not to Paul, not to _anyone_ for that matter. And he knows that’s not a healthy coping mechanism — he would know, having switched from calling a paramedic whenever he used to actually becoming one to help people — and he knows he should speak up about the shaking and the fears and the utter need of taking something before it eats away at him.

It’s something he’s been working on for the past year and a half. He’s been sober for eighteen months now, and it’s been a struggle. He hasn’t been alone in this; he’s counted on his parents and his friends and his boyfriend who apparently is now a cheater and maybe has always been, and TK can feel himself spiraling out of control when Paul speaks up again.

“What do you mean, your boyfriend is a cheater?” There’s a high-pitched tinge in Paul’s voice when he talks. TK shrugs, making a soft sound in the back of his throat.

Paul reaches out and lands a hand on TK’s shoulder. He doesn’t shake him, however; instead, Paul gently nudges him and pushes him until they’re both sitting on the bench closest to both their lockers. TK has yet to let go of the hoodie, his mind supplying that it’s Carlos’ favorite and TK usually wears it when he wants a date to be memorable.

_Some memorable night_ , he thinks bitterly.

“What makes you think Carlos is cheating on you?” Paul asks softly. TK shrugs again, but his friend isn’t taking any of that. “TK,” he says sternly.

“I was thinking out loud. You weren’t supposed to hear it.”

“Well, I did,” Paul tells him. “And I’m worried. What makes you think Carlos would do _that_ to you? He loves you too much for that. You know that.”

“I saw him today at the farmer’s market,” TK explains succinctly. He doesn’t want to say anything else, but Paul’s eyes are boring a hole into his own gaze, so he elaborates a little tiny bit, not ready to fully disclose how much he’s hurting. He knows Paul would worry. “He, uhm, he was in his uniform.”

“Well, that makes sense. I recall you bitching about how his shift lined up all through your day off except for two hours before you had to clock in. What was he doing in the farmer’s market? Patrolling the stalls? I’ve heard there’s been several reports of pickpockets having a field day.”

“He was being a liar,” TK huffs out. “He was talking to his parents in Spanish.”

“And that equals to him cheating how exactly, TK? Help a brother here, I’m kinda lost,” Paul jabs at him. There’s no heat in his words, just confusion. TK hates it.

“He was hugging another man as he talked to them! He was all draped over this six-feet, blue-eyed, blond god-like man!” TK exclaims. His fingers dig deeper in the hoodie’s fabric; he’s sure that, if it hadn’t been such a soft material, he would actually have drawn blood with his movement.

“He was doing what now?” Paul frowns. “There has to be an explanation, TK. Maybe he was a friend? A relative?”

“He said he was his cousin but how can he be a relative, Paul, when he’s like a Viking?” TK deadpans. “You know, I may not be an expert in genetics, but Carlos’ family is Mexican, and this guy looked like he was born in Finland.”

“There needs to be an explanation,” Paul insists.

“There _isn’t_ any rational explanation, Paul, that isn’t cheating. Now I understand why he didn’t want to introduce me to his parents as his boyfriend. It wasn’t because of his past or his experiences, it was because they had already met the _official_ boyfriend! Man, I am the _other_! Turns out he wasn’t cheating on me, he’s cheating on his boyfriend _with_ me!”

Paul stands up like he’s been slapped. “Don’t say that,” he mutters. “You need to talk to him. I refuse to think that he’s the cheating type.”

“Don’t think neither you or me have much saying in the matter,” TK laughs bitterly. “I overheard enough of their conversation to understand that his parents were inviting him over for dinner tonight. _We_ had a date night tonight. I was at the market buying the proper ingredients for his favorite tacos. But apparently his parents invited both Carlos and this god of a man over. And guess what?”

Paul looks at him horrified. “Please tell me he didn’t cancel on you.”

“He sent me a text saying that his parents had invited him over and that he couldn’t refuse. And he said he had run into his cousin. Which, you know, not possible. So I take it that's the cheaterʼs code for boyfriend.”

“Don’t call him that, please,” Paul begs. “I’m still not sure Carlos is cheating. I admit it looks like it. But you can’t be sure. You need to talk to him.”

TK shakes his head. He doesn’t trust himself enough to not go around the corner and start a search party for some Oxy and some vodka; he isn’t going to trust his voice to be steady and not break if he brings this topic up to Carlos the next time he sees his boyfriend. If they’re still in a relationship by then. If he ever sees Carlos again.

If he doesn’t break before he collides on the ground in this free fall he’s taken ever since he saw Carlos’ hand up and down another man’s arm.

“The shift is about to start,” TK points out in a whisper as he catches a glimpse of Mateo and Marián teasing Judd on their way into the firehouse through the wide windows on the opposite side of the lockers room. “I just don’t want to talk about this. I just want to forget about it.”

“You sure you’re fit to work today?” Paul asks. “You’re pretty much shaken up.”

“I’m fine,” TK reassures him, finally standing on his feet and throwing the hoodie into a heap inside his locker. “I promise. I’m fine.”

Paul arches an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything as the rest of their crew saunters inside the room, laughing and joking. TK purses his lips in a fine line as he makes up his mind — he fishes his phone out of his front pocket and clicks on the screen to unlock it. Swiftly typing out a reply to Carlos, he locks the screen once again and decides to leave the device in the firehouse for the whole duration of his shift.

* * *

Carlos had to admit that things have been awkward this week, and not only because he's been dragged twice to his parentsʼ house for dinner since running into the and his cousin at the market four days before — once by his parents forcing him to cancel his date night with TK, and the second one by none other than Fredo himself in an attempt to make Carlos come clean to his family. 

Both times have been a complete failure, only spiking his anxiety further within each second. 

It hasn't helped matters that TK hasnʼt replied to any of his texts in four days, that they haven't even crossed one single word at the scarce calls they have had together. And Carlos knows he should have reached out to TK — he knows he can show up at the station or at the Strand household where he’s sure TK’s been holing himself up for days now — but he knows his boyfriend. He knows TK might be ignoring him on purpose, and that TK probably has a good reason — at least in his mind — for that. And Carlos wants to be the perfect boyfriend to TK; he wants to give him space, so TK can come around on his own terms and talk to Carlos.

It isn’t helping matters that Carlos feels like this is different from the last time TK shut him out. This doesn’t feel like some stunt TK might pull. Carlos can’t help but think that it hasn’t helped matters that TK has been avoiding him on calls and at the bar and not returning his calls or texts. 

It hasn't helped that the last words his boyfriend has thrown his way have been through a single text, in reply to Carlosʼ message from the farmerʼs market, has been harsh — Carlos was even able to _hear_ TKʼs dismissive voice through the screen.

Carlos would have never thought that TK would be so mad about this. Of course, heʼs aware that springing a raincheck on such a short notice might have not been the best heʼs done, but TK usually is a good sport about everything regarding Carlosʼ parents.

“Stop brooding, Carlos,” Fredo says, lunging a fry at him from across the table. “You’re thinking too loud for my liking.” 

Carlos sighs. Ever since running into Fredo at the farmerʼs market, they have been hanging out whenever Carlos has been free — whenever any of his texts to TK has come back unreplied and ignored. Right now they're at the food truck park Carlos used to go with Michelle, eating some greasy comfort food an hour after Carlosʼ shift ended. 

“Iʼm not brooding,” he mumbles. 

“Yes, you are,” Fredo points out. “It’s okay, you know, given the circumstances, but I am starting to get really bored at you not talking to TK about whatever is bothering both of you.” 

“He isn’t replying to my texts,” Carlos sighs. “Ever since I bailed out on our date. I knew I should have told mom and dad I couldn’t go.” 

“For what youʼve told me about your boyfriend, he doesn’t seem to be the type to get mad about this. Moreso since you both talked about your issues with your parents. You know,” Fredo says slowly, fingers pointing right into Carlosʼ chest, “I want to help you but I can't if you refuse to be helped.” 

Carlos shakes his head. “I know I should tell them. But Iʼm not sure if there's anything to tell, after all.” 

“Don't be a downer. Heʼs not breaking up with you for sure.” 

“Maybe heʼs gotten tired of menor being able to come clean to my family. Maybe heʼs found someone else.” 

“Stop that right now,” Fredo interrupts him. “From what you have told me about him, I doubt TK is the cheating kind.” He stands up and grabs his phone that has been resting on the table. “Cʼmon, primo. Let's move.”

“Where to?” Carlos is confused, but Fredo is tugging at him and forcing him to stand up. 

“To talk to your boyfriend.” Fredo is speaking so matter-of-factly that Carlos can only gape at him. 

“Heʼs working!” 

“Stop complaining and get us to his station, Carlos! I know heʼs working, youʼve only told me like, a thousand times.” Fredo pinches his arm. “Let's go talk to him. You need it, and there’s no moment like right now.” 

“Iʼm pretty sure that's not the saying!” 

Carlos closes his mouth when Fredo throws him a dirty look, and follows his cousin right up to the Camaro. He doesn’t say anything during the ride to the 126 firehouse, too busy tampering down his nerves as he takes all the right turns. Fredo is also silent in the passenger’s seat — apparently, after having made him drive them to the station, his cousin doesn’t seem to find any topic to talk about. When the firehouse shows up by the end of the street, Carlos cannot keep his hands from sweating on the leather of the steering wheel. 

“Everything will turn out fine, Carlos,” Fredo reassures him when he pulls up close to the building, stalling after he kills the engine. “You just go inside, talk to him, make up and get out. I don't want the Fire Captain to kick you out, or to have to call the police on you for public indecency.”

“So funny,” Carlos deadpans. “Iʼm not sure—” 

“Stop stalling and go get him!” Fredo ushers him outside. They both step out of the car, Carlos taking a few wobbly steps towards the entrance. 

He briefly thinks that heʼs too much of a scared shit to actually be a cop, but he didn’t follow in his fatherʼs footsteps for nothing. He squares his shoulders. He wets his lips. He walks forward. 

Mateo sees them before they get to approach the firehouse properly, being the one doing some cleaning chores around the bay. “Carlos!” he calls out, the biggest smile on his face. “So good to finally see you! You've been a stranger for days, and Iʼve missed hanging out with you.” 

“You mean, youʼve missed the free food and videogames.” 

“That too,” Mateo admits with another grin. “Man, we needed you. TK has been a nightmare these days. Please make sure to never again allow your schedules to _not_ line up.” 

Carlos feels those words like a sucker punch, straight into his gut and shaking him to his core. Whatever is going on with TK — something that Carlos doesn’t know anything about because TK had been keeping him in the dark — is wrecking his boyfriend. For the first time in four days, Carlos allows himself to be afraid that TK might be spiraling. He’s never before taken so personally that their shifts kept them apart. 

“Where is he?” Carlos questions, feigning a confidence he isn’t feeling. “With Nancy and Tommy?” 

“Itʼs weird that you don't call her Captain Vega, you know,” Marjan pipes in as she pops out from behind a fire truck. 

“She’s an old friend of the family. It would be weird for me to call her that.” 

“Oh, boy, and who's this?” Marjan asks, eyes fixed behind Carlos. He rolls his eyes; it's been a while since he last endured how people usually react to his massive cousin. 

But before he can reply, there’s a voice coming from above their heads that startles them all, freezing Carlosʼ blood in his veins at the venom dripping off it. 

“Yes, Carlos, who is this, and why have you taken _him_ here?” 

He looks up in time to watch fury burning in deep green eyes gazing back at him from the gangway.

* * *

TK has been minding his own business, trying to stay out of everyone's hairs since a collision with both his father and Judd in the field two days before, when he lashed out at them in two different moments. It’s now been four days since the biggest revelation of his life in Austin — bigger than that time when he thought his world had been rocked after being shot — and he has yet to talk to Carlos. It has affected his mood, and everyone has noticed, but thankfully they think it's because he hasnʼt been seeing his boyfriend due to their incoherent schedules. 

Only Paul knows the truth, and that's nagging enough, having those eyes on him all the time silently judging him for not manning up and confronting Carlos. 

And TK has been doing fine. He truly has. Except for the sleepless nights, but it's nobodyʼs business if heʼs having trouble resting without Carlosʼ arms shielding him from the world. _So much for protection_ , he thinks bitterly as he shucks a balled t-shirt into the laundry bag and picks another one from the pile of clean clothing. His hands shake as he unfolds the fabric. It always happens when heʼs not getting enough sleep — or when heʼs being too stressed for words. TK knows what comes next, has known for four days now, and heʼs been trying to fight it for just as long. For longer, even. He had Carlos by his side, and his father and his found family before though, but ever since that breakdown at the farmerʼs market TK has felt lonelier than ever. In four days he's managed to either push people away or to ignore his boyfriend. 

And the itch to use hasnʼt diminished. 

“Hey, pretty boy, you might want to see this,” Paul says, sticking his head through the door. “You’ve got a visit.”

“Please tell me it’s not Carlos,” TK whines, hastily throwing the t-shirt on. “ _Please_.”

“I thought I was pretty clear, TK,” Paul points out as he urges him to walk out of the lockers room. “Seems you didn’t talk to your guy, and now he’s here to remedy that. But—”

“But what?” TK asks distractedly, too focused on slowing down his heart so it doesn’t drill a holw in his chest with its wild beating. He doesn’t get a reply — he doesn’t think he would have wanted any, anyway — because he reaches the gangway and stops dead in his tracks. Below them, in the bay, Carlos is talking to Mateo and Marjan, but he’s not alone. A few steps behind him, there is the blonde guy from the market — the one Carlos had been all draped around to start with — sporting a smug smile and decidedly intending to flirt back with Marjan. 

TK needs to do something.

“Yes, Carlos, who is this,” he blurts out loud, wincing at the coldness in his own words, “and why have you taken _him_ here?”

His boyfriend — if they are _still_ a couple — looks up at him and TK feels himself sway. It’s always been like this with Carlos, ever from the beginning. One look from those expressive brown eyes, one eyebrow shot up, and TK is a goner. He forces his feelings back down, because now it’s not the time to be swept away by Carlos Reyes, not when TK is trying to make sense of what’s going on.

“TK, we need to talk,” Carlos says slowly. TK notices the small wrinkles around his mouth, the incipient bags under his eyes, the tense stance of his shoulders. “Can we go somewhere a little bit more _private_?”

“This sounds important,” Mateo pipes in, always the one not realizing when he should shut up.

“Probie,” Paul says warningly. He nudges TK’s shoulder from behind before stepping away and heading towards the staircase. 

He studies Carlos’ face for a little while longer. Carlos has a pained pinch in the corner of his eye, a crinkle that TK would love to smooth with his thumb. He sighs.

“Come up here,” he finally relents. His chest tightens when he watches Carlos’ lips get drawn in a line as he takes on the stairs two steps at a time. “Let’s go to the bunker area,” he offers before Carlos has even had the chance to reach the top of the stairs. He turns around and hopes Carlos is still following him.

He thinks he hears a second set of footsteps in his wake, but he can’t be sure with all the noise his brain is making.

“Okay,” he says when he turns around inside the bunker room to face Carlos. Buttercup, who has been napping on Marjan’s bed, makes a distraught sound but doesn’t budge. “Spill. Who’s this guy?”

“Fredo?” Carlos looks confused for a second. TK wants to yell at him, but also to hug him — Carlos seems completely lost, and TK can tell he’s lost weight in the past days. TK _himself_ hasn’t been eating properly either. “Fredo is my cousin. What has that to do with anything else?” TK sees realization dawning on Carlos as he links the dots in his mind. “Are you mad because of _Fredo_?”

TK could scream, but he remains silent, one eyebrow cocked in a challenging way. When Carlos doesn’t say anything else, obviously waiting for him to reply to his question and elaborate an answer, he sighs again. “Are you cheating on me?” He chooses the straightforward way, and despite the certainty with which he speaks, the words still send a wave of grief throughout his soul.

“Am I doing _what_ now?” Carlos’ words ring through the room, bewilderment written in his face. “Where—how—TK, where’s all this coming from?”

“I saw you,” he mumbles, suddenly shy and bashful. He looks down at his shoes, kicking the floor nervously. “At the farmer’s market,” he adds as an afterthought, not looking up again. He’s too afraid of what he's going to see if he dares to look into Carlos’ eyes.

“You saw me at the farmer’s market,” Carlos repeats slowly. TK doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s trying to make sure he still understands basic English. “I don’t think I get it, Ty. I go patrolling the market almost every day.”

“I saw ,” TK insists. “With your parents and—and—”

“I think he means he saw you with _me_ the other day at the market,” a new voice says before TK can struggle his way through his own words. Not that he wants to explain — he doesn’t think that Carlos deserves an explanation if he’s actually a cheater — but he doesn’t like the interruption either. When he finally looks up, he’s met with both Carlos’ wide eyes on him and the stranger’s piercing blue gaze from the threshold.

* * *

Carlos holds his breath when Fredo speaks. He hadn’t realized his cousin had followed him up; when he turns around, he can see Fredo and the whole 126 standing short from entering the bunkers room — Carlos can even see Owen and Tommy leaning into one another for a better view inside the place.

“Am I right?” Fredo continues, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Carlos wants to point out that there’s no use in doing that, because there are a lot of glass windows all around the station, but he bites his tongue. “You saw us, you made up your mind and—”

“I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a conversation between my boyfriend and I so—”

“One where apparently you think I am cheating on you with my _fucking_ cousin who’s come back from New Zealand for his parents’ anniversary,” Carlos manages to say through gritted teeth, anger bubbling inside of him before he deflates at the implications of what isn’t being said in this crazy conversation.

TK thinks he’s cheating because he saw Carlos at the market with Fredo and his parents. Carlos racks his brain, trying to find what TK could have seen to make him believe such a wild thing, and then it hits him, fair and square. 

“What did you expect me to think?” TK all but yells. “You keep saying you aren’t ready to tell your parents about us, and then I saw you, all cozy and happy and talking to them while—while—” He trails off, tears springing to his eyes.

Carlos hates himself.

“I’m sorry you thought that, TK,” Fredo says while Carlos tries to think. “I, uh, I’m sorry we didn’t get to be properly introduced and that you thought Carlos was cheating on you. That’s not the case. I’m really his cousin. Alfredo Ramírez, though my friends call me Fredo.”

“You’re really his cousin?” TK mumbles. “How’s that even possible? You look _nothing_ alike.”

“That might be because I was adopted,” Fredo keeps speaking. Carlos is both thankful for that and cringing at his words. He knows that TK doesn’t need rational explanations right now — he knows TK needs a hug and reassurances and promises to be kept.

Carlos knows it’s not his fault — he could never have known that it was that particular idea swimming in TK’s brain — but he also thinks that, from an outsider point of view, things might be a bit confusing. He understands why TK’s mind might have lied to him and made him believe Carlos was cheating on him. He should have known better.

He should have pressed on TK more. He should have checked in on him instead of giving him space.

He should have done so many things.

But he can start now.

“Fredo, can you leave us alone?” he asks slowly. “And please take everyone down with you. I think this is a conversation we need to have alone.”

“Of course, primo.” 

Carlos watches as Fredo retreats, his taller frame a little hunched as he walks away and drags everyone else away from the door and downstairs. Only when he deems them sufficiently alone does Carlos turn around and faces TK for the first time since his cousin introduced himself.

“TK,” he begins, not sure about how to approach this subject. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s true, then,” TK mumbles. He sits down on the closest bed, causing Buttercup to leave the bunker where he’d been lying and jumping next to him. “He’s really your cousin and I’ve made a huge ass out of myself. Just like every single time.”

“No, no you haven’t,” Carlos is quick to say, sitting down next to his boyfriend but not touching him yet. “Fredo is really my cousin, but you couldn’t have known. You’ve never met him, and I’ve never shown you pictures.”

“You’ve talked non-stop about your cousin who you adore and who lives in Porirua,” TK reasons in a soft voice. “I just wasn’t expecting him to be, you know, _blond_.”

“He’s the black sheep of the family,” Carlos laughs. “I understand how this must have looked like, and I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Even as he speaks, Carlos has the feeling that it's not enough, that somethingʼs missing. He catches TKʼs leg bouncing nervously, the way he always does when heʼs trying to calm down in a stressful situation, and it pains Carlos to be the source of that stress. Even though he couldn’t have known what was going on in TKʼs head — and that should be a bullet point for future deep conversations — Carlos still believes he should have tried harder. He should have _known_. 

But Carlos has been too focused on the way heʼs going to broach the subject of TK being the love of his life to his parents, and heʼs missed on some clues. And, if heʼs being honest with himself, Carlos is more than a bit offended that TK would even entertain the idea of Carlos betraying him like that — as though Carlos is just one step away from being Alex. While he has been trying to tame his own fears doubling down on the effort of convincing himself that, whatever the outcome, he would always have TK, his boyfriend had been believing that Carlos was distrustful enough to hide such a secret from him. 

It stings. But he needs to focus on TK — they can have that talk later. 

Except TK seems to want to have it _now_. 

“No, it’s me who should be sorry,” TK is saying. “Iʼve made it about myself once again. I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you. Instead I was a brat.” 

“When aren't you a brat?” Carlos whispers back, going for humor. TK turns to face him, grabbing Carlosʼ hands in his; Carlos is transported back to that fateful night so many months ago, a mocking reprise of that same situation. 

“I am sorry, Carlos. I promise to do better at communication from now on. I promise to talk to you.” 

“You couldn’t have known. I could have pushed more, you know. Reach out and make sure you weren't having weird thoughts.” 

“This isn't your fault, Carlos,” TK insists. “Could you please just stop apologizing for my fuck ups?” 

“You’re not a—” 

“And this is hardly your fault. I should have asked. I should have told you that I’d seen you,” TK laughs bitterly. “Instead I thought you were cheating, and that you didn’t want your parents to know about us because I was the lover instead of the boyfriend, you know.”

“That’s twisted, even for you, Ty.”

“I know _now_!” TK throws his hands in the air with a huff. “But it’s weird that he knew it was me.”

“Fredo also knows everything about you,” Carlos confesses. “And maybe you throwing out a fit at me about him clued him in.”

TK shakes his head, opening his mouth to say something, but Carlos doesn’t let him speak.

“He’s, uh, he’s promised to help me tell my parents about you,” he says in a rush, words slurring together in his haste. “He’s in town for a couple more weeks, until his parents’ anniversary, and I was thinking, maybe, well—” He trails off, suddenly too aware that perhaps it isn’t the best timing right now to speak what’s on his mind.

TK looks up at him from below his eyelashes, and Carlos thinks he’s going to die — his heart is making a case of beating its way out of his chest. “What were you thinking, Carlos?”

“I want you to come with me,” he blurts out. He cringes at the neediness of his own voice, at the clingy tone his words are tainted with, but he can’t take them back. He means it — he wants TK to be there with him. “And Fredo wants to help ease the way. He’s my parent’s favorite, after all.”

TK shoots a small smile at him, unshed tears in his green eyes, and Carlos wishes he weren’t the cause for such pain. “You want me to come with you.”

“Yeah,” Carlos acquiesces. “As my boyfriend.”

TK leans into his shoulder, finally allowing the tears to spill, and Carlos throws an arm around him, pulling him closer. There’s a tenderness in the motion — in the way Carlos _needs_ to feel TK sagging against him to be reminded that this is real — that Carlos isn’t ready to let go of, just yet. They remain like that, huddled together as TK cries and Carlos holds him, shedding some tears of his own at what they almost lost due to lack of communication and so many doubts, until their limbs become numb. But Carlos doesn’t care, and he believes TK doesn’t either, as long as they have each other once again.

_Forever_ , his heart supplies.

Forever feels long enough.

**Author's Note:**

> fun facts about writing this fic!
> 
> * the fake whatsapp texts have been created using [fakewhats](https://www.fakewhats.com/generator)


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